


Silence Isn't Golden

by mrs_squirrel_chester



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Excessive use of the word fuck, F/M, Gen, Mute - Freeform, Mute Reader, Muteness, Negan (Walking Dead) Swears, Reader is mute, Swearing, Violence, negan uses lucille to kill walkers, selective mutism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2018-12-19 22:16:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11907306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_squirrel_chester/pseuds/mrs_squirrel_chester
Summary: Imagine having selective mutism and Negan playfully trying to get you to talk to him. It wasn’t that you had been tragically traumatized, you just didn’t like to talk sometimes. The less you talked, the more you could observe. People acted differently when they thought no one had an opinion to give. And you’d been doing pretty good in the Sanctuary, keeping to yourself, minding your own business, until Negan had taken an interest.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Reader face claim: Sophia Bush POV changes. For the majority of this fic, italics are going to be what the reader is saying in sign language.

Growing up, you didn’t talk. Not a word. To anyone. Ever. Not because you hadn’t been raised by people who loved you, who wanted nothing more than to have you grow into an amazing adult, to help you flourish. But because you literally couldn’t utter a syllable to another human being; save for your parents, and only because you felt safe with them.

‘Selective mutism,’ the doctors called it; a complex childhood anxiety disorder characterized by a child’s inability to speak and communicate effectively in select social settings. Needless to say, school was hell; you didn’t have any friends, and you didn’t get to do any of the things a ‘normal’ child got to experience in life. You were different, and people - especially children - were cruel and uneducated.

And just when you thought things couldn’t get any worse, the world - as you knew it - came to a screeching halt. The dead roamed the earth, eating anyone - and anything - that had a beating heart. It was like a horror movie, amped up to level 100, only there was no pause button. You were trapped, and there was no way out. In order to survive, you had to dig deep, and do anything it took to see the sun rise again. Including killing your parents.

That was the proverbial nail in the coffin for you. Your anxiety spiraled, sending you deeper inside yourself, trusting no one, going radio silent, even to the small group of men that found you. They took you with them, to a place called The Sanctuary, a place that actually resembled life before the walkers ruined everything. People worked hard, doing their jobs, earning a roof over their head and food in their belly. After years of being alone, aside from walkers, The Sanctuary was a place you felt like you could belong. A place where you could be surrounded by a mishmash of people, and not be expected to talk. The only thing they wanted from you was your unyielding devotion. You could do that.

* * *

The end of summer came, bringing crisper air, and a splash of color to the monotonous green trees. While people would wrap themselves in sweaters and mutter how much they hated the cold air, it was your favorite season. You loved going for walks, being surrounded by nature as various animals scurried around, gathering food for the upcoming winter.

After finishing your assigned work, you got permission to go out for a walk.

“Not for too long, though,” they said. As the sun was just beginning its decline, you completely understood. No one was to be out at night alone. With a thumbs up, you agreed, and went on your way. 

Wearing a grey beanie and dark sweatshirt / jacket, you disappeared into the woods, hands shoved into your pockets, pulling in a deep breath as soon as you crossed the threshold. The borderline eerie silence of the woods cut through the residual sanctuary chatter that clung to you like spiderwebs.

There was a small part of you that wanted to do as people asked, to join in on the conversations, to laugh at the way Simon’s hair stuck out like he shoved his finger into an electrical socket. But you couldn’t. Not when, despite the security and safety you had come to know with the saviors, your anxiety was overwhelming to the point that your vocal chords refused to work. 

The walk was exactly what you needed; quiet and relaxing. Perhaps, a little too quiet. Eyes narrowing, you stood completely still, and took in everything around you. There was a stream up ahead, water splashing against the rocks that stood in its path, racing toward another, much larger water source. That’s when you heard it; the  _snap_  of a twig under someone’s foot.

Acting on instinct, you grabbed the weapon at your side, spun around, and launched it through the air. The throwing ax you always wielded landed in the tree with a resounding  _thunk_ , mere inches from Negan’s head. 

“What the fuckin’ fuck was that shit?” he yelled, jumping back, wide eyes landing on you.

You sighed heavily, and rolled your eyes.  _The hell was **he**  doing out here?_

“You tryin’ to kill me, little one?” he teased, propping Lucille on his shoulder.

Grabbing the end of the ax, you gave one solid yank, and pulled it free. You didn’t know if you were imagining things, but it looked like Negan was impressed. You tucked it away and shook your head.

_”Why would I try and kill the leader of the Saviors?”_  you asked, signing rapidly.

Negan’s eyes narrowed. “Whoa, whoa. Don’t know what the fuck that shit is, or what the fuck you ‘said’, but it’s ‘bout time you head back,” he ordered. “Sun’s dippin’ down early. Might be in for a storm.”

With a huff, you marched past, working hard to suppress a shudder, but it wasn’t because of the irritation roaring through you. It was because of the herd of walkers less than twenty feet in front of you. You reached behind you, tugging roughly on the hem of Negan’s leather jacket.

“The fuck is it?” he snapped, whirling around. “Well, fuck me. Looks like we’re gonna get fuckin’ dirty.”

Lucille whistled through the air, sending a fountain of blood through the air. Negan laughed while he slaughtered the walkers, having a grand time, while you focused on the task at hand; killing as many walkers as you could so you could go back to your place. Since you’re walk had gotten interrupted, you didn’t get to decompress as much as normal.

The two of you were covered in blood and sweat by the time the last walker fell.Wiping at your face with the back of your hand, the surge of adrenaline began to fade away. You groaned, stumbled through the bodies, and headed back toward the safe haven of the Sanctuary.

“Wait up, princess,” Negan called, following you quickly.

You spun around, face twisted in anger.  _”Don’t call me that,”_  you snapped.

“Told you before,” Negan started, letting out a small sigh. “I don’t fuckin’ know what all that,” with one gloved hand, he tried mirroring your signs, “fuckin’ means.”

Huffing out your nose, you shook your head. The last thing you were mentally prepared for was teaching Negan sign language. While he was in charge of the Sanctuary, he was the far from the top of your list of people you felt comfortable enough to talk to. Granted, that list was a mile long, and you hadn’t even uttered a word to even your friend; Eugene.

Eugene was a sweet, trustworthy, and empathetic man. He had even gone so far as to learn sign language so he could understand what you were saying. Negan had seen the trustworthy trait and used it shamelessly.

You stormed away from Negan, rage bubbling below the surface. Every step you took, Negan gained on you. Curse people with long legs. 

“Little one,” Negan called out in a sing-song tone. “You can’t go off on your own.”

 _Fucking watch me_ , you screamed inside your head. Being alone, at night, surrounded by walkers was nothing new for you. You’d survived years before the Saviors found you. You were damn certain you’d survive without them. But at that moment, you wanted nothing more than a hot shower and a drink.

You kept walking, ignoring Negan behind you, and the looks everyone else wore as the two of you walked in, walker blood splattered on your clothes.

“Should’a seen ‘em,” Negan boasted to his group of right right hand men. “Thought they could take us down!”

Eugene was at your side, worry thick on his tongue. “You alright?”

 _”Fine, just walker blood,”_  you explained quickly.  _“I need a shower. Meet you in twenty?”_

“Yeah, ok,” he replied, hands wringing together in front of him. “I’ll bring a bottle of wine.”

* * *

Eugene was sitting on the couch, freshly poured glasses of wine on the table, and smiling gently as you came out of your bedroom. “Better?” he asked.

 _”Much,”_  you answered, dropping heavily next to your friend. You took a long drink, eyes drooping closed at the bite at the back of your throat.

“Negan’s noticed you,” Eugene said simply.

You scoffed loudly.  _”I guess you could say that. And here, I thought I could fly under the radar when it came to him.”_

Eugen smiled. “There’s no flying under the radar here.”

 _”Noticed that, Gene,”_  you snarked.  _“Hate to sound egotistical, but what’s he going to do now?”_

Rolling his eyes, Eugene took a drink, wincing as he swallowed. Wine was never his thing, but he drank it because you liked it. “That’s hard to say, Y/N. There are many things that make Negan tick, things that pique his interest. Now that you’ve caught his-”

_”I need to lay low.”_

“Good luck with that.” 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PREVIOUSLY ON SILENCE ISN’T GOLDEN:
> 
> “You tryin’ to kill me, little one?” he teased, propping Lucille on his shoulder.
> 
> Grabbing the end of the ax, you gave one solid yank, and pulled it free. You didn’t know if you were imagining things, but it looked like Negan was impressed. You tucked it away and shook your head.
> 
> ”Why would I try and kill the leader of the Saviors?” you asked, signing rapidly.
> 
> Negan’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t know what the fuck that shit is, or what the fuck you ‘said’, but it’s ‘bout time you head back,” he ordered. “Sun’s dippin’ down early. Might be in for a storm.”
> 
> *****************************************************
> 
> “Negan’s noticed you,” Eugene said simply.
> 
> You scoffed loudly. ”I guess you could say that. And here, I thought I could fly under the radar when it came to him.”
> 
> Eugen smiled. “There’s no flying under the radar here.”
> 
> ************************************************  
> Reader face claim: Sophia Bush POV changes. For the majority of this fic, italics are going to be what the reader is saying in sign language.

A few days passed, and you hadn’t seen Negan. Not that you were actively looking for him, but his presence wasn’t something that went unnoticed. He was arrogant, boisterous, crass, narcissistic, controlling, intimidating, insane… the list was endless. So to have that time without seeing and hearing any of those things, helped the days go by easier than if he were there, breathing over everyone’s shoulders, barking orders in their ears.

With the appearance of walkers so close to the Sanctuary, an earlier curfew was enforced, and no one was to go anywhere alone. Good rules to have, everyone - yourself included - agreed. And yet, you continued to crave time to yourself, the silence was a welcome reprieve. It was almost enough to drive you to break the rules. Almost.

You stood outside, head tipped back, breathing in the crisp air. Technically, you weren’t breaking the rules; you weren’t alone. Eugene stood off to the side, looking over his shoulder, afraid that one of Negan’s men would see the pair of you and decide to throw their authoritative weight around. 

_”Don’t worry,”_ you signed. _“We’re close enough.”_

“It’s past curfew,” he whispered harshly. 

_”Barely, Gene,”_ you sarcastically signed, pulling in one last deep breath. _“But I suppose you’re right, we should go in.”_

Eugene sighed in appreciation. “Thank you,” he breathed, his hand falling to your back in that friendly, protective manner you had gotten used to.

Neither of you missed the scowls from Simon and Dwight. Each of them wanted to give the two of you a piece of their mind, but with how close Negan kept Eugene, they thought better of it, and turned around to pay attention to someone else.

“I got a few things to do, but I can stop by later, if you like,” Eugene offered kindly.

 _”Not tonight,”_ you answered. _“I’ve got a new book with my name on it.”_

Knowing how much you loved to read, he smiled wide. “What’s that make, four since the last shipment?”

 _”Five, but who’s counting?”_ was your sassy comeback. Eugene laughed before bidding you goodnight. You had just opened the door to your living quarters when your name boomed from above. You looked around for a moment, unable to locate the source. 

“Over here, little one,” Negan ordered playfully, a smile thickening his voice.

The last thing you wanted was to do Negan’s bidding, but there was no other choice. Pulling in a deep breath, you turned, made your way through the sparsely populated common area, and up the stairs. As soon as both feet were on the top step, you stopped.

 _”What do you want?”_ was your demand, brow arched, frustration radiating off you.

It didn’t matter that he had no clue what you signed, Negan said, “Come and have a drink.” He turned on his heel, and disappeared around the corner before you could even think to protest. Never having been in this part of the Sanctuary, you jogged to catch up. Getting lost in a restricted area was not high on your bucket list.

Negan laughed as you skidded around the corner. “Easy, girl,” he said, holding out a bottle of chilled beer.

You shook your head. _”No beer for me, thank you.”_ You might not have liked the man very much, but if your mother taught you one thing, it was manners.

“No?” he questioned, eyes narrowing as the gears started turning in his head. “Is there anything you would like to drink?” When you shook your head again, Negan shrugged and took a long pull from the bottle, making a satisfied _ahhhh_ sound when he was done. He was up to something, of that you were sure, but what he was up to remained a mystery.

“So you ain’t deaf,” he noted, sitting back in the chair, long legs kicked out on the table.

 _”Just mute,”_ you offered, standing as tall as your short frame allowed.

It took him a moment, but Negan nodded. “Eugene tells me you’ve got somethin’ called ‘selective mutism.’ The fuck is that shit?”

Huffing out a breath through your nose, you signed quickly, _”It basically means I’m not comfortable enough around anyone to say anything. We done here?”_

Negan chuckled low in his throat. “Now, I don’t know nothin’ about that.” His eyebrows were arching, not both at the same time, but one at a time, almost as if he were trying to be goofy, like you were a challenge that he wanted to overcome.

Rolling your eyes, you agreed with him. _”So you said the other day.”_

“You’re close with Eugene, right?”

You didn’t like the way his eyes flashed when he said that. _”Yes, he’s been a good friend to me. Can’t say that happens a lot.”_

Negan took another drink before offering you a place to sit. “Any friend of Eugene’s is a friend of mine.”

Pointing to the chair, you shook your head. _”I would, but I’m really beat; long day.”_ You added a yawn because you weren’t lying; you had been having a hard time sleeping since the encounter with the walkers, something about them forced the memory of your parents lunging after you, moaning hungrily, to the surface. You could do your best to bury it, but you’d never forget the way their blood sprayed across the room as you chopped off their heads.

“Little one, you alright?” For the first time since meeting Negan, he actually sounded sincere. 

You shrugged off the emotion that threatened to take over. _”Aces. We done?”_ you asked, throwing a thumb over your shoulder so he would hopefully get the point that you wanted to get back.

With another drink, Negan emptied the bottle. He stood tall and crossed the room, tossing the bottle into a bin. “I’ll walk you down.”

 _”I can find my way,”_ you argued, shaking your head for what felt like the hundredth time.

“Little one,” he sighed. “What would people think if I let someone like you walk around-” your icy glare cut him off. 

_”What do you mean ‘someone like me,’ Negan? Know what, nevermind. Fuck you,”_ you seethed, eyes prickling with angry tears. Negan moved to grab your arm, but you moved even faster, spinning away from him and stomping off the way you had come, ignoring his many attempts to get you to stop.

Negan caught up with you at the top of the steps, his hand fiercely tight on your upper arm. “Do not walk away from me, Y/N,” he snarled, dark eyes drilling into yours. As far as you knew, no one had dared turn their back on Negan and live to tell the tale. You ground your teeth and glared up at him. There were murmurs from below, just a handful of people that noticed the two of you, visibly pissed off, having a stare down, seeing who would blink first.

 _Let. Me. Go,”_ you demanded, taking a step back, doing everything you could to keep him from seeing how badly it hurt. Your arm wasn’t the only thing that hurt. Panic mixed painfully with the anxiety in your chest, making it difficult to breathe. You refused to break down, to let anyone - especially Negan - see  that side of you, to see that you were weak, that you could easily be broken. Because if Negan found out, you had no doubt he would use it to his advantage.

“Everythin’ alright, boss?” Simon called from below. The two of you stood there, glaring at each other, for several long, thick moments. But it wasn’t until Simon boot hit the bottom step that Negan said anything.

“Yeah,” he called down. “Y/N was just leaving.” Negan loosened his grip just enough that you had no problem yanking it away from him. Which was a bad idea, given that you already teetering on the edge of a step.

You had no idea you were falling until it was too late.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PREVIOUSLY ON SILENCE ISN’T GOLDEN:  
> Let. Me. Go,” she demanded, taking a step back, a look of repulsion on her face.  
> “Everythin’ alright, boss?” Simon called from below. The two of them stood there, glaring at each other, for several long, thick moments. But it wasn’t until Simon approached the stairs that Negan said anything.  
> “Yeah,” he called down. “Y/N was just leaving.” Negan loosened his grip just enough that you had no problem yanking it away from him. Which was a bad idea, given that you already teetering on the edge of a step.  
> ************************************************  
> Reader face claim: Sophia Bush POV changes. For the majority of this fic, italics are going to be what the reader is saying in sign language. Eugene translates sign language for Negan in this chapter. I will not be adding ‘Eugene translates’ for these times. Negan will be answering as if it were a ‘normal’ conversation.  
> 

Negan felt like shit, and it had everything to do with the guilt that roared through him when Y/N looked at him after he uttered those three words,  _‘someone like you.’_  He didn’t fuckin’ mean it the way it came out. As if that weren’t bad enough, to top it off, he was responsible for the fact that she fell down the stairs. He hadn’t intended to hurt her.

Eugene’s surprised tone pulled Negan from his thoughts. “You’re still here.”

“A’course I’m still fuckin’ here,” he snapped. “Where the fuck else would I be?”

Eugene looked down at his hands nervously. “He- here, of course,” he sputtered.

“One of my people gets hurt, I’m right there with ‘em.” Negan squeezed the bridge of his nose, hoping the oncoming headache would pass.

“Y/N is alright,” Eugene said softly, knowing how Negan despised it when people raised their voice to him. “No broken bones.” 

Eugene was so mad when he found out what had happened, that Negan was the one responsible for hurting Y/N. Never before had he actually considered going against Negan, not caring whether or not he died. Y/N was more than his friend, he thought of her as a little sister, someone he would do anything in the world to protect, even if that meant dying.

“Good,” he murmured, squaring his shoulders before he stood tall. “That’s good to hear. Is she, uh, she awake?” For the first time since last night, Negan felt like he could breathe. The guilt wasn’t as heavy, thick in his lungs, whispering words of self-deprecation into his mind. He would not forgive himself if she were seriously injured, or worse, if she had died.

“You want to see her?” Eugene was shocked.

Despite his earlier protests, Negan wasn’t the type of guy to hang around when someone got hurt, let alone go in and see them afterward. Normally, Negan would go about his day-to-day routine, making sure everyone was doing their jobs, keep the Sanctuary running smoothly, making sure no one stepped out of line, and if they did, there was hell to pay. But right then, if Eugene wasn’t mistaken, Negan actually sounded sincere in his concern for Y/N’s well being.

“Did I fuckin’ stutter?” Ah, there was the Negan everyone knew and loved.

Eugene barely kept from smirking. “Not sure she’s up for company, boss.”

Through clenched teeth, Negan asked, “Can you check?”

Catching sight of Negan’s hands balling into fists at his side, Eugene quickly disappeared into Y/N’s room down the hall. He was back several moments later, telling Negan that, “She’s groggy from the pain meds.”

Negan stood at the end of the bed where Y/N was propped up on several pillows, wearing a pinched expression, one leg tucked under the other. He glanced at Eugene, asking, “You gotta be here?”

“She uh, she asked for me to stay,” Eugene muttered. “I know sign language, learned it for her. I can translate.”

“You want a fuckin’ medal,” Negan snapped, rolling his eyes.

Y/N sat up slowly and glared at Negan.  _”He’s done more for me than anyone else in this fucking camp of yours; yourself included.”_  Her signing was slower than before, movements almost stuttered, jerky.

Negan narrowed his eyes. “You’d do best not to talk to me like that.”

_”What are you gonna do, beat me over the head with Lucille like you did Glenn and Abraham?”_

The silence that stretched was thick, filled only by the rapid breathing of Negan as he glared at Y/N. He had to give her credit, she wasn’t backing down, cowering like everyone else before her. She sat up slowly, barely hiding the wince of pain as it roared in her head.

 _“Get the fuck out,”_  she demanded, nostrils flaring, face red, hands shaking.

“My fuckin’ pleasure.” With a huff, Negan stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Once in the hall, he growled loudly. The hell was her problem? He was going to apologize for what happened, and she kicked him out. Never had someone shown such insubordination and lived. Negan was surprised at how angry he had gotten. Sure, he had anger issues, never was a fuckin’ secret, but the rage that boiled under his skin, desperate for a way out, now that was a new fuckin’ feeling.

As Negan stormed down the hall, Dwight came around the corner. “Hey, boss. I got a ques-” Negan punched Dwight in the face, sending the man crashing to the floor.

* * *

Negan narrowed his eyes. “You’d do best not to talk to me like that.”

_”What are you gonna do, beat me over the head with Lucille like you did Glenn and Abraham?”_

Even you knew that you were pushing things too far. But there was no way you were going to back down, not even as he glared at you, the silence stretching thick, filled only by his rapid breathing. Despite the roar of pain in your head it caused, you sat up slowly, barely managing to keep from wincing.

 _“Get the fuck out,”_  you demanded, nostrils flaring, face red, hands shaking. The harder your heart beat, the more pain blossomed in your head, making your eye twitch with the intensity of it.

“My fuckin’ pleasure.” With a huff, Negan stormed out, slamming the door behind him. As soon as he was gone, you fell back onto the pillows and groaned low and heavy.

“Are you  _insane_?” Eugene whisper-yelled, his hands diving through his hair. 

_”He’s a fucking asshole,_ ” you snapped, rolling your eyes before you closed them. Fuck, that hurt more than you thought it would.  _“He needs to learn that respect isn’t a one way street.”_

Eugene scoffed loudly. “Nobody respects him, Y/N. It’s called fear!”

You sighed heavily, pushing yourself higher on your bed, forcing your eyes open.  _“And that makes it any better? He can’t go around demanding respect without giving it. He takes advantage of people, you, of all people, should know that.”_  It wasn’t the first time you’d mentioned that to your friend. If there was anyone Negan took more advantage of, it was Eugene.

Shaking his head, Eugene approached you. “When they let you outta here, keep your head down, your nose clean; whatever you need to do to stay off of his radar. Don’t go throwin’ gasoline on the fire.”

You knew he had your best interest at heart; always had, always would. But right then, you wanted nothing more than to haul off and hit him. You were crazy pissed, mostly at Negan, but the way Eugene was talking to you, it felt like he was taking Negan’s side, as if he didn’t care about anything you said.

Maybe it was the concussion, or the pain killers, but all you wanted to do was curl up and go to sleep. When you yawned loudly, Eugene excused himself, promising to stop by after he finished his work. You sat there for a few minutes, getting lost in the fog of impending unconsciousness, when Dr. Carson knocked on the door, entering a moment later.

He smiled warmly at you. “Good news, Y/N. The x-ray is clear, no broken bones.”

 _"Good. Can I go?”_  you huffed. You wanted nothing more than a hot shower and your own bed.

Closing your file, Emmett looked at you seriously. “You need to rest, no rushing back to work, and definitely no going overboard. I’ve already given my recommendations to Negan.”

At that you rolled your eyes, not caring about the intense flash of pain it caused.  _“Bet that went over real well.”_

“Believe it or not, he’s not as bad as he seems.”

 _”I’ll believe that when he fuckin’ shows it,”_  you snapped, scoffing loudly.

Emmett dropped to his knees, helping you put on your boots, despite your protests. Once that was done, he stood, and helped you stand. You didn’t fight him that time, not when the ground shifted unsteadily under your feet. He waited until your eyes were opened, until the fog cleared, and you nodded.

“I want to see you in five days,” he instructed. “Remember, no work, just rest.”

You moved to argue, but he covered your hands with his. “Rest, Y/N. If anyone says anything to you, let alone Negan, remind him that I’m the one in charge of you, not him.” You huffed a laugh at the mental image of anyone’s face, let alone Negan’s.

_”I can do that.”_


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PREVIOUSLY ON SILENCE ISN’T GOLDEN:
> 
> Negan wasn’t the type of guy to hang around when someone got hurt, let alone go in and see them afterward. Normally, Negan would go about his day-to-day routine, making sure everyone was doing their jobs, keep the Sanctuary running smoothly, making sure no one stepped out of line, and if they did, there was hell to pay.   
> **********************************************  
> Y/N sat up slowly and glared at Negan. ”He’s done more for me than anyone else in this fucking camp of yours; yourself included.” Her signing was slower than before, movements almost stuttered, jerky.
> 
> Negan narrowed his eyes. “You’d do best not to talk to me like that.”
> 
> ”What are you gonna do, beat me over the head with Lucille like you did Glenn and Abraham?”
> 
> The silence that stretched was thick, filled only by the rapid breathing of Negan as he glared at Y/N. He had to give her credit, she wasn’t backing down, cowering like everyone else before her. She sat up slowly, hiding the wince of pain as it roared in her head.
> 
> *Get the fuck out,” she demanded, nostrils flaring, face red, hands shaking.
> 
> “My fuckin’ pleasure.” With a huff, Negan stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Negan took all of his frustrations with Y/N out on a herd of walkers. A herd of walkers he had no business fighting. It was after curfew, and Negan was by himself, but he didn’t fuckin’ care.

“Rules are meant to be broken,” he growled as he bashed in the head of a crawling, almost dead walker. “‘Specially when I’m the one that fuckin’ makes ‘em.” 

Once the walkers were dead, and the adrenaline had run its course, Negan trudged back to the Sanctuary. Normally, he’d head to one of his wives’ rooms and fuck ‘em senseless, but not that night. After stripping off his ruined clothes, Negan took a long, hot shower, washing the dark and curdled blood off his lean frame, and out of his hair.

Dry, wearing a white tee, dark jeans, and holding a beer, Negan dropped onto a chair, huffing loudly as the plush cushion absorbed his weight, pulled him deeper. It was sitting there, nursing a cold beer, his eyes closed, that Negan figured it out, why Y/N’s defiance made him as angry as it did.

He murmured her name with a shake of his head. “Fuck, it’s been forever since I thought’a her,” Negan admitted to the empty room.

Iris had been his first long-time girlfriend, several years before he fell madly in love with Lucille. Iris was everything he had wanted in a woman; smart, bad ass, _nice_ ass, sharp tongued, quick witted, stunningly gorgeous… but fuck, was she fuckin’ stubborn.

* * *

_Iris glared up at him with dark eyes and her lips in a flat line. “Goddamn, Negan,” she seethed. “Git outta my fuckin’ way.”_

_Negan towered over her, shoulders bowed, hands on her shaking shoulders. “Let it go, babe. She’s just tryin’ to get a rise outta you.”_

_“It’s fuckin’ workin’,” Iris snapped, moving to march around Negan._

_“I’m tellin’ ya,” Negan murmured, halting his girlfriend’s movements. “She ain’t worth it.”_

_Her dangerously dark eyes flashed. “But it’ll make me feel better.”_

_How could he deny her that? Simple, he couldn’t. Negan dropped a kiss to Iris’ forehead, and let loose his grip, watching with a proud smirk as she strode across the parking lot, reared her arm back, and knocked the slut on her ass._

* * *

“Sure showed her, didn’t ya, babe?” Negan asked the ghost of his girlfriend. He sat there, drinking and reminiscing, unmoving, until Eugene knocked on the door.

Once Eugene entered, Negan offered him a beer, which Eugene declined, shaking his head and asking, “What did you need to see me about?”

Chuckling sadly, Negan scraped a hand over his face. “I know damn well you already know what… _who_ this is about.”

“I… I can talk to her, get her to understand-” Eugene stopped when Negan raised his hand.

“None of that will be necessary,” Negan sighed.

Eugene looked as if Negan had sprouted a second head. “I… I don’t understand. You were mighty pissed off earlier.”

“I sure was,” he chuckled again. “Still kinda am.”

“If talking with her won’t be necessary, why am I here?” Eugene scoured through his mind, trying to figure out if he had said or done the wrong thing lately.

“You can breathe easy,” Negan assured the man across from him. “I just want you to tell me something.”

Eugene’s shoulders sagged as he sighed. “Anything.”

“I want to know everything about Y/N.”

* * *

The next several days were spent hiding in the comfort of your living quarters. The first night, you hadn’t thought the pain would be too bad, that Dr. Carson didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. Man, were you in for a rude awakening.

You woke up to the most intense headache you’d ever experienced. It blurred your vision, turned your stomach, amplified every smell and sound until you were crying, which only made the headache worse. Carson had given you some pretty wicked painkillers, which you wasted no time in finding, and dry swallowing two of them, choking on the chalky residue they left on the back of your tongue. You hadn’t realized just how potent they were until they took effect, and you slept for almost two days, although you didn’t know it at that point.

It was Eugene’s voice drifting through the open-just-a-crack bedroom door that pulled you from the deepest sleep you had ever fallen into. With your eyes narrowed and pulling on a robe, you shuffled out of the room.

Eugene sighed heavily in relief, his shoulders bowing, and a hand driving through his hair. “Jesus, Y/N. I was really scared somethin’ happened.”

 _”I was just sleeping,”_ you slurred, only opening your eyes enough to maneuver to the fridge without running into anything.

“For two days?” He really tried not to shout, but Eugene had passed the worried mark the day before. He had been out of his mind with worry, wondering if you had fallen and _really_ gotten injured, or if the concussion was just the beginning. All sorts of what if scenarios ran through his mind, and each one of them was worse than the one before.

The water you chugged felt like heaven on your tongue and throat. Once you drank several glasses, you turned to your friend. _“It hasn’t been two days,”_ you insisted, although you didn’t know how much time had actually passed since you fell asleep. The only thing you did know was that every muscle in your body was screaming in pain, sore from the fall, from sleeping too much.

“The hell it hasn’t,” Eugene scoffed. “I came over yesterday, but I figured you were still recovering, wanted some time to yourself.”

 _”You weren’t wrong,”_ you confirmed. Dragging a hand through your greasy hair, you groaned.

Your friend was staring at you with wide eyes. “Is everythin’ alright?”

 _”Just need a shower and some food,”_ you answered. _“Should shower first, though.”_

Eugene pinched his nose as if your odor was atrocious. “You do that. I’ll make somethin’ to eat. Pancakes and bacon?”

 _”Sounds like the best meal ever,”_ you answered softly, laughing at the way Eugene sounded plugging his nose and talking at the same time.

* * *

You were clean, full, and had just swallowed half of a pain pill when there was a knock on your door. Naturally, you thought it was Eugene, bringing over that new book he promised to get. When there was another set of knocks, you pushed off the couch gently, much to the dismay of your sore muscles, and yanked the door open. Eugene wasn’t the person standing there.

“Hey, Y/N,” Negan greeted warmly, smiling in what you thought was his attempt at a friendly manner.

Irritation bubbled in your gut, but then the words of Eugene rang in your head. _“When they let you outta here, keep your head down, your nose clean; whatever you need to do to stay off of his radar. Don’t go throwin’ gasoline on the fire.”_ Taking a deep breath, you moved to the side, holding the door open.

Negan ducked his head since he was slightly taller than the frame. “Got yourself a nice place,” he said, turning to face you once the door had been closed.

Reminding yourself that Negan would have no clue as to what you would be saying, you sort of dumbed down a way to ask, _“What are you doing here?”_

It took him a second, but he worked it out. “I wanted to check on ya,” he answered. “See how you were gettin’ on.”

You couldn’t stop the giggle that bubbled in your throat. Negan looked at you as if the act physically pained him. “You really think I’m some cold, heartless bastard?”

Not knowing if it was the pain pill taking effect, or the concussion, but you needed to sit, and quickly. Sighing heavily as you dropped onto the couch, you moved your hand in a way that would sort of agree with him. _“Kind of.”_

The sound of his chuckle surprised you. “I ain’t no prince charming,” he confirmed as he took a seat. “But I also ain’t the devil.”

When you didn’t respond in any kind of way, Negan stumbled through an apology. “Look, I, uh… I wanted to say that… fuck, I’m sorry for what happened.”

You stared at him in disbelief, completely forgetting for a moment that he didn’t know sign language. _“Never thought I’d see the day where you apologized for anything.”_

With furrowed brows, Negan watched your hands carefully. “Hey, now that ain’t true! I’ve apologized plenty a’times,” he snarked, obviously proud of himself for knowing part of what you had said. 

_”Wait… you understood that?”_ If you didn’t feel like you could pass out without a second’s notice, you would have stood and started pacing around the room.

“Don’t look so surprised, Y/N,” he smiled wolfishly, leaning back in the chair.

That’s when you realized where he could have possibly learned it. _“You asked Eugene for help.”_ Negan went to argue, but your arched brow stopped him cold. You weren’t sure what that was about, but made note of it, just in case you needed to shut up him in the future.

With a roll of his eyes, he didn’t deny it. “Yeah, yeah, I asked the guy for some help. Is that so bad?”

For some reason, your heart did this weird double-beat. Negan had asked for help so he could understand what you were saying. He asked for help because of you. _“How much have you learned?”_

Negan’s dark eyes narrowed, and you could just about hear the gears grinding in his head. “Umm, that one?” he awkwardly repeated one of the signs. You pointed to your head, which he understood. “Not a lot, just a few of the basic signs,” he rasped proudly.

You smiled as he showed you the ones he knew. He stumbled through a handful of them, swallowing thickly when you showed him the correct way to hold his fingers. _“Not too bad, Negan,”_ you praised.

“Yeah?” he scoffed, a glimmer of pride in his eyes. He looked as if he were going to say something, something other than a snarky or inappropriate comment, but that moment passed quickly. 

“Must be because I’ve got talented fingers.”

With a scoff, you stood, and signed rapidly. “ _You’ll have to excuse me, I’m not feeling well after being thrown down a flight of stairs. You know the way out.”_ Spinning on your heel, you stormed into your room, and slammed the door loudly.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PREVIOUSLY ON SILENCE ISN’T GOLDEN:  
> You smiled as he showed you the ones he knew. He stumbled through a handful of them, swallowing thickly when you showed him the correct way to hold his fingers. “Not too bad, Negan,” you praised.
> 
> “Yeah?” he scoffed, a glimmer of pride in his eyes. He looked as if he were going to say something, something other than a snarky or inappropriate comment, but that moment passed quickly.
> 
> “Must be because I’ve got talented fingers.”
> 
> With a scoff, you stood, and signed rapidly. “You’ll have to excuse me, I’m not feeling well after being thrown down a flight of stairs. You know the way out.” Spinning on your heel, you stormed into your room, and slammed the door loudly.

You couldn’t fuckin’ believe that you were beginning to think that Negan might actually be a nice guy. He even started learning sign language, and it wasn’t because one of his wives was deaf; you were the only person in the Sanctuary that had to use it as a form of communication.

Falling back on your bed made you grunt painfully. You threw your arm over your stinging eyes, focusing on the pain, letting it remind you that it was Negan that was responsible for the pain and agony you were in, it was Negan that didn’t know when to shut his fuckin’ mouth, to use the filter that everyone else on earth seemed to have. Well, not  _everyone._  And what the hell was with the way you were acting towards him mere minutes ago; praising his actions, having some sort of other feeling towards him than disgust? It was like you didn’t even know who you were.

Shit, your head hurt. You moved to push yourself off the bed, but there was a burst of pain behind your eyes. You didn’t remember falling off the bed, landing on your hands and knees. And you sure as hell didn’t remember screaming in agony.

* * *

Despite Y/N having just kicked him out, Negan didn’t leave. Not because he was an asshole that never did what a woman said, but because… well, shit, he was fuckin’ worried about her. She could have died the other day, and it would have been entirely his fault. There was no way he could blame Y/N for how she reacted, especially since Negan had a history of never thinkin’ before he said somethin’.

Negan scraped a hand over his face and shook his head. “Fuckin’ idiot,” he chastised himself. He was just about to knock on Y/N’s door when she gave an ear-piercing scream. It didn’t last long, just long enough to send Negan’s hair on end, long enough for him to run across the room, and shove the door open. The moment he laid eyes on her, the screaming stopped, and she collapsed to the floor.

With his heart pounding in his throat, Negan secured Y/N in his arms, and tore out of her quarters as if Death himself were on his heels. Ignoring the curious shouts of, “is everything ok,” and the wide eyes of several children, Negan didn’t stop running until he reached the medical wing.

* * *

Eugene was sitting in a chair against the wall, both legs bouncing erratically, bottom lip between his teeth, and staring at the floor while Negan paced back and forth down the long hall. Two hours had passed, and Carson hadn’t come out with any kind of an update. Both men felt like they were ready to snap.

Just when it felt like either of them were going to scream, the door at the end of the hall opened. It felt like time stood still as Carson walked toward them, folder in hand, concern heavy on his brow.

His smile was tight as he greeted them, talking before either man could ask a million questions. “She’s resting comfortably,” he assured them, taking note of the look of relief that washed over Negan. “I’m not gonna lie, it was scary for a bit.”

“No fuckin’ shit,” Negan rasped, staring hard at the doctor.

Eugene butted in. “You said everything was fine. What happened?”

Emmett turned to stare at Negan. “I’m hoping you can answer his question. You brought her in, tell us what happened.”

“I didn’t push her down the stairs, if that’s what you’re insinuatin’,” Negan barked, eyes flashing dangerously dark.

“Easy, Negan,” Emmett sighed. “That’s not what I… we were saying.”

Swallowing hard, Negan nodded. If he was being honest, Negan hadn’t forgiven himself for what happened the other day. Throw this in the mix, and he was beginning to think he was cursed. First Iris, then Lucille, and now Y/N. What the fuck was goin’ on?

“I stopped by to check on her, see how her recovery was going.”

“How did she look?” Emmett asked, pulling a pen from his pocket.

Licking his lips, Negan looked looked at Eugene from the corner of his eye. “She uh… she looked good.” Why was this so goddamn difficult? It wasn’t like he  _liked_  Y/N. Or did he? Fuck if he knew.

Both men looked at him, waiting for him to continue. Knowing how much honesty was needed in that kind of situation, Negan continued. “She was irritated that I was there, but she wasn’t angry, even started signing slow so I could figure out what she was sayin’.”

“How did that go?” Eugene asked, slightly proud at how Negan was moving forward with learning, taking time to get to know about Y/N, why she was the way she was.

“Good,” Negan breathed. “Most of it was easy to translate.”

“Then what happened?” Emmett interjected, needing more information for his file.

It took Negan a moment to answer, he suddenly hated the fact that his dirty mind got him into trouble. “I said somethin’ I shouldn’t have, and she blew the fuck up. Deservedly so,” he added when Eugene’s mouth fell open. “I’m pretty sure she told me to leave, and stormed off. Thankfully, I didn’t. Otherwise, I don’t know if anyone would have heard her scream.”

Emmett made a few more notes, nodding as he came to a conclusion about Y/N’s diagnosis. “It sounds like she has post-concussion syndrome. It isn’t rare, per se, but it is pretty rare for it to happen to a woman as the syndrome tends to favor young males, specifically those that play sports.”

“What can we do?” Eugene wondered, his hands wringing together behind his back.

“Well, to be honest, Y/N shouldn’t be overdoing it. I’m placing her on disability until she is symptom free.” Emmett looked purposely at Negan before continuing. “She needs to be taking it easy; a lot of rest and relaxation. The most she should be doing is going for walks. The fresh air might do her some good. Oh, and don’t get her agitated. The higher her blood pressure goes, the more she risks having another episode.”

“How long do you think it will be, doc?” Negan asked, genuinely concerned for the safety and well-being of Y/N.

Emmett shrugged his shoulders. “I wish it were an easy answer. Basically, the longer she takes it easy, the sooner she’ll feel better. The syndrome can last anywhere from ten days to three months.”

Eugene’s eyes fell closed as he groaned. “What kind of symptoms should we be watching for?”

“Mainly headaches and dizziness,” was Emmett’s simple answer. “Anything worse happens, you rush Y/N straight here.”

Both men agreed with the doctor, taking turns shaking his hand before he added, “Let her sleep here tonight. I’ll let you know when she wakes.”

Once Emmett had disappeared into his office, Eugene turned to Negan. “We best get workin’ on that sign language if you’re gonna be helping her relax.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PREVIOUSLY ON SILENCE ISN’T GOLDEN:
> 
> Shit, your head hurt. You moved to push yourself off the bed, but there was a burst of pain behind your eyes. You didn’t remember falling off the bed, landing on your hands and knees. And you sure as hell didn’t remember screaming in agony.  
> ************************************************  
> “It sounds like she has post-concussion syndrome. It isn’t rare, per se, but it is pretty rare for it to happen to a woman as the syndrome tends to favor young males, specifically those that play sports.”
> 
> “What can we do?” Eugene wondered, his hands wringing together behind his back.
> 
> “Well, to be honest, Y/N shouldn’t be overdoing it. I’m placing her on disability until she is symptom free.” Emmett looked purposely at Negan before continuing. “She needs to be taking it easy; a lot of rest and relaxation. The most she should be doing is going for walks. The fresh air might do her some good. Oh, and don’t get her agitated. The higher her blood pressure goes, the more she risks having another episode.”  
> *************************************************  
> Eugene turned to Negan. “We best get workin’ on that sign language if you’re gonna be helping her relax.”

Simon wasn’t happy, and he sure as hell wasn’t shy about hiding it. “She’s not contributin’ in any way, boss.”

“You think I don’t know that,” Negan snapped, hand tightening around the neck of Lucille. “I’m the asshole that threw her down the stairs. Besides, the doc said she’s on disability. Can’t do shit ‘bout that!”

“Come on, she had to have planned it,” argued Simon. “Besides, you didn’t throw her.” Simon rolled his eyes, hand driving through his wayward hair.

Five days had passed since Carson said Y/N was well enough to go home. Negan and Eugene had worked out a schedule for checking in on her, making sure she was following doctor’s orders, and doing everything they could do to keep her blood pressure down. Not that it was an easy task, Y/N still got worked up at times; mostly at Negan. She wasn’t a fan of being told what to do, but she was quickly reminded that if she didn’t, there was a chance she could die. Fuck, they were more alike than Negan originally thought.

“Shut your fuckin’ mouth, or I’ll shut it for ya,” he sneered, pointing Lucile at Simon, wire teeth still dirty with Glenn and Abraham’s blood. Well, not  _only_ their blood.

Simon decided to take a softer approach to Negan. “Alls I’m sayin’, is that it looks like you’ve gone soft. People are talkin’.”

Lucille dropped down to Negan’s side as he rolled his eyes. “People are always gonna talk, Simon.”

“Shit, boss,” Simon gruffed. “You have gone soft. Never thought I’d see the day where a hot piece’a ass took you down a fuckin’ notch”

Sneering, Negan lunged at his second in command, grabbed him by the back of his shirt, and steered him towards the door. “I ever hear you sayin’ shit like that again, Imma fuckin’ cut out your goddamn tongue with a fuckin’ set of rusty scissors, ya hear?”

Simon stumbled when Negan released him, almost falling to his hands and knees. With wide eyes, he looked at his boss, the man he had long ago come to think of as his friend, and balked. “She got somethin’ on you?”

Instead of answering, Negan roared loudly, and slammed the door so hard it almost didn’t latch closed.

Negan wasn’t blind, he knew people had been looking at him differently over the last handful of days, but that didn’t bother Negan, not like it would have bothered him  _before_. Maybe Simon was right, maybe Negan was softening up. Fuck, there were just all of these…  _feelings_  running rampant through him; it was fuckin’ with his head. He had just gotten his breathing in check when Eugene opened the door.

“Hey, boss,” he greeted warmly. “You still good going for a walk with Y/N?”

That was weird. Negan’s heart did a little double beat in his chest. He wasn’t sure what to do with that not-so-little development.

“Y- yeah,” he stammered, momentarily wanting to back out from his responsibilities. “Be right down.”

“I’ll let her know,” Eugene said before heading out the way he had come, leaving the door open.

Pulling in several deep breaths, Negan stood tall, and ran his hands through his hair. Try as he might, he couldn’t get nervous flip of his stomach to stop. It was like Iris all over again.

He was officially fucked.

* * *

You had just tugged on the grey hat when Negan descended the stairs. You had to force yourself to not watch as his long legs carried him down, knees kicking out to the sides, one hand loosely wrapped around the railing, the other holding Lucille. Seeing the razor-wrapped bat didn’t make you shudder near as bad as it used to, but it still filled you with unease.

Wearing a tight smile, you greeted Negan.  _“You look like you’ve had better days.”_

Negan chuckled low, standing an arm’s length away as you fell into step beside him. “Don’t we all have days like that?”

With a shrug, you shoved your hands into your pockets. He wasn’t wrong. There had been plenty of days where you not only felt terrible, you knew that you looked the part. But you tried really hard not to let it weigh you down, curve your shoulders, weaken your resolve, doing everything you could to push through it. The only difference with Negan, was that he didn’t look like he was going to make it.

Rounding the building where nobody else really hung out, you grabbed Negan’s elbow, gaining his attention.  _“Something is going on with you,”_  you stated the obvious. _“And you’re going to tell me what it is.”_

“I’m fine, little one,” Negan smirked. “Ain’t nothin’ I can’t handle.” He moved to step around you, but with your brow arched, and a hand resting on his chest, he stopped.

_”Please,”_  you said, looking up into his face. For the first time, you felt like you were seeing through the mask Negan wore on a daily basis. Beneath it, he was scarred from living a hard life, having loved passionately, and lost violently, turning him into a vastly different man, all in the name of survival. You couldn’t help but wonder what Negan was like before the end of the world.

His chest stuttered under your touch, his breathing shallow, thick, unsure. “You really wanna know, little one?” Negan rasped, eyes flicking between yours.

You nodded in answer, worrying the inside of your cheek between your molars. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but when Negan’s rough hand rested on your neck, his thumb scraping the line of your jaw, where it stopped below your chin, you gasped softly, just enough that only the two of you heard it. Negan dipped his head down, his eyes flashing with insecurity drilled deep into yours, waiting for your approval. He wouldn’t do anything without your permission, of that, you were certain.

Did you really want to venture down that path, a kiss, holding hands, a… relationship with Negan? You had seen how he was with women, not even the ones that he ‘married’, but the ones he openly ogled, his tongue damn near hanging out of his mouth as if he were a dog in heat. You weren’t sure if you could handle being with someone like that. And yet, there you stood, your twisted stomach full of butterflies, skin prickling with nervous sparks of electricity, giving Negan your unvoiced permission.

Charcoal whiskers bit into your chin as Negan’s lips covered yours. His eyes stayed open as he held his breath, only exhaling in relief when you didn’t pull back, when your eyes fluttered closed and you pushed yourself up into him, your nails scraping through the short hairs on the back of his neck. With his arm around your waist, he turned and pinned you to the wall, making sure your head didn’t smack against the concrete, stopping it with the hand that had been on your neck, Lucille on the ground, forgotten.

You couldn’t stop from moaning as his mouth slanted over yours, his tongue pushing through your lips. The dominance that thrummed through Negan daily was evident in the way he kissed; fierce, scorching, and bruising. He kissed you until you were breathless; your lungs burning, chest heaving, skin flushing, back arching.

Negan would have kept kissing you; his lips trailing along your jaw, teeth nipping at your ear lobes, the pulsepoint in your neck, but you didn’t give him the chance. You pushed at him, shoving him away, sending him stumbling back when he said a name, a name that wasn’t yours.

 _”Who the **fuck**  is Iris?”_ you demanded, the sting of betrayal raging white-hot, burning through the arousal that had you moaning and writhing moments ago.  _“Know what? I don’t wanna fuckin’ know.”_  With unshed tears blurring your vision, you tore off, not stopping until your back was to your door, and you threw the deadbolt.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PREVIOUSLY ON SILENCE ISN’T GOLDEN:
> 
> “Something is going on with you,” you stated the obvious. “And you’re going to tell me what it is.”
> 
> “I’m fine, little one,” Negan smirked. “Ain’t nothin’ I can’t handle.” He moved to step around you, but with your brow arched, and a hand resting on his chest, he stopped.
> 
> “Please,” you said, looking up into his face.
> 
> His chest stuttered under your touch, his breathing shallow, thick, unsure. “You really wanna know?” Negan rasped, eyes flicking between yours. Charcoal whiskers bit into your chin as Negan’s lips covered yours.
> 
> Negan would have kept kissing you; his lips trailing along your jaw, teeth nipping at your earlobes, the pulsepoint in your neck, but you didn’t give him the chance. You pushed at him, shoving him away, sending him stumbling back when he said a name, and it wasn’t yours.
> 
> ”Who the fuck is Iris?” you demanded. “Know what? I don’t wanna fuckin’ know.” With unshed tears blurring your vision, you tore off, not stopping until your back was to your door, and you threw the deadbolt.

What the hell had you gotten yourself into? Just the other week, you wanted to strangle Negan. Somehow, he wormed his way onto your good side; he even learned sign language to better communicate with you. Then he was kissing you, and you didn’t stop him. Hell, you  _wanted_  him to kiss you. You wanted him to do a lot more than that. Sliding down the door, you groaned, crying into your hands, not caring if anyone could hear you on the other side of the door or walls. 

There was a stab of pain in your temples, and you cursed yourself for allowing Negan to get under your skin. Again. Forcing your eyes closed, you pulled in one shuddering breath after another, thinking all the calming thoughts you could think of, but Negan was still at the forefront of your mind. Sneaky bastard had worked his way deeper than you originally thought; Negan had wormed his way into your heart.

You were fucked.

Even though the ground shifted under you, you crawled over to the table and fumbled with the for-emergencies-only bottle of concentrated painkillers Dr. Carson had prescribed. Swallowing two of them without water, you curled in on yourself and waited for them to take effect.

One of the last things to cross your mind before the darkness swallowed you was the way Negan’s mouth felt on yours, the way his whiskers bit deliciously into your skin, how rough his grip had been on your hips and back, the firmness of his chest against yours… and then, nothing.

* * *

Negan watched as Y/N ran away, unable to move, too taken over by shock. Had he really kissed her? Had she kissed him back? Fuck, had he really called her Iris? He groaned as he raked a hand over his face and through his hair. He fucked up, more than any time before. Growling, he grabbed Lucille, and had just started jogging around the corner to follow Y/N when Simon gave a shout.

“More walkers than we thought, boss,” rasped Simon, who looked as if he had rolled in walker blood. Negan was only slightly bothered by the sight of his crew, which was a giant red sign; he was falling in love with Y/N.

Sneering, he grabbed Simon’s shoulder. “Who the fuck authorized your little excursion?” he sneered, spittle flying off his tongue.

“You did, boss,” Simon answered, shoving Negan in the chest.

“I did no such thing,” Negan growled, releasing his second-hand man suddenly. He couldn’t do this, not then, he didn’t have it in him to argue. He wanted to… needed to check on Y/N and try to explain what had happened. How the fuck was he supposed to do that when even he didn’t know?

“What the fuck’s the matter with you?” Simon demanded, hands on his hips, blood dripping from his hairline.

Negan shook his head and backed away. “I don’t have time for your shit right now. I got bigger fish to fuckin’ fry.” And with that, the turned on his heel and sprinted into the compound.

Several people tried to stop him, talk to him about their ‘job,’ or some shit like that, others even shouted out, asking if everything was okay, but he kept moving, not stopping until he wound his way through the hallways and slammed his hand onto Y/N’s door.

“Come on,” he shouted. “Open the fuckin’ door.”

He pounded on the door for a full minute before he decided, “Fuck it! I’m comin’ in, goddamn it,” and used his shoulder to gain access to the locked living quarter.

Running in too fast, he didn’t notice her curled on the floor, unconscious, a pinched look on her face. He only took notice when he exited her room.

“Fuck,” he snarled, fear slithering up his spine and wrapping around his heart. He dropped to his knees and grabbed the bottle from the floor. “Double fuck.”

After setting it on the table, he cupped her face in his hands. “Come on, darlin’,” he drawled, slapping her cheek gently. “Wake up.”

There was a moment where Negan thought he saw her eyelids flutter, but it was just the breath that was tearing in and out of him. With his jaw clenched, he slapped her a bit harder.

“You gotta wake up. You just gotta, little one.” Panic was settling heavy in his chest, so he picked her up, held her close, and tore out of her room in search of Dr. Carson.

* * *

You were shaking your head and shoving yourself out of the gurney. There was no way in hell you were going to stay there any longer than necessary.

Eugene launched himself across the room, grabbing your legs to prevent you from escaping. “The hell you think you’re doin’?”

Grunting, you grabbed his hands and pushed him away.  _“I can’t stay here any longer, Gene,”_  you lamented.  _“It’s too dangerous.”_

“I don’t… dangerous?”

 _”Not because of walkers,”_ you explained further, just wondering how much you should tell your best friend.

Eugene tucked a finger under your chin and looked you straight on, something that was rare for him. “Has Negan hurt you?”

You shook your head, but you couldn’t hide the tears.  _“I just… I can’t stay, Gene.”_

“I’m really worried about you,” he admitted, a sad smile on his lips.

 _”You don’t need to be,”_  you lied.  _“I’m fine.”_  You made a move to get off the bed once again, but Eugene wasn’t letting you go anywhere.

“Doc says you gotta stay overnight.”

Rolling your eyes, you let out a pained groan. _“Fine, just tonight.”_

* * *

Negan lept from the chair when the door to Y/N’s room opened. “How the fuck is she?” he demanded to know.

Eugene closed the door, only moving from it after the tell-tale sound of a lock being thrown could be heard. “Besides the fact that she almost died? Oh, she’s fuckin’ great, Negan,” he scoffed, pushing Negan out of the way as he stormed away.

“Now, just you fuckin’ wait a goddamn minute,” Negan snarled, Lucille momentarily forgotten on the chairs as he charged after Eugene. “Who the fuck do you think you’re talkin’ to?”

Spinning suddenly, Eugene almost laughed at the comical way Negan slid to a stop. “I’m talkin’ to the man that’s almost killed Y/N. Not just once, either. And what the shit happened today? She won’t fuckin’ tell me.”

Negan’s eyes were wide as Eugene laid into him, his finger poking Negan in the chest. “I uh, I don’t know what you mean.”

“Bullshit,” Eugene spat. “You see and know everything. Remember?”

How the hell had things come to this? Eugene, of all people, was giving Negan an evil glare. He shouldn’t be feeling like he was a child that had fucked up, but he did. Negan scraped a hand over his face and groaned into his palm.

“I kissed her, Gene,” he finally admitted, his voice tight.

“Are you fuckin’ joking?” Eugene cried, hand dragging through his hair. “You’re not kidding. Great. Just fuckin’ great. God, Negan. Can’t just keep it in your pants, can ya? Five wives not enough for ya, ya gotta go after the one person in the compound that hasn’t stooped to any of our fuckin’ levels. She’s a good person, Negan. Shit!”

He spun on his heel and started storming away, but before Eugene could get too far, what Negan said next stopped him in his tracks.

“I love her.”

* * *

God, you were tired. You could feel it in your bones, in your soul. After throwing the lock, you had every intention of climbing into bed and trying to get some sleep, but then Negan’s raised voice grabbed your attention.

“Now, just you fuckin’ wait a goddamn minute. Who the fuck do you think you’re talkin’ to?”

“I’m talkin’ to the man that’s almost killed Y/N. Not just once, either. And what the shit happened today? She won’t fuckin’ tell me.”

You had to hold back a gasp at the way Eugene sounded. God, he was pissed.

“I uh, I don’t know what you mean.”

“Bullshit! You see and know everything. Remember?”

“I kissed her, Gene.”

“Are you fuckin’ joking? You’re not kidding. Great. Just fuckin’ great. God, Negan. Can’t just keep it in your pants, can ya? Five wives not enough for ya, ya gotta go after the one person in the compound that hasn’t stooped to any of our fuckin’ levels. She’s a good person, Negan. Shit!”

There was a stretch of silence, filled only with someone walking away. It must have been Eugene, because Negan’s voice was in the same spot it was moments ago.

“I love her.”

What the shit did he just fuckin’ say?!

“You what now?” Eugene rasped, his voice closer than before.

“I fuckin’ love her, man.” He sounded surprised, like it was the last thing in the world he wanted.

You couldn’t bear to listen to another word. With your eyes full of tears, you shoved away from the door, and sat on the edge of the bed. You worked hard to keep your heart rate down, the last thing you wanted to do was have another incident, be forced to stay at the compound much longer.

Once your heart wasn’t hammering and the pain behind your eyes had dulled, you shoved off the bed and changed into your clothes. The last thing you wanted to do was leave without saying goodbye to your best friend, but at that moment, you didn’t see another way. You would leave tonight.


	8. Chapter 8

“How the fuck did she get out?” Negan roared in the doctor’s face. To his credit, Emmett closed his eyes only to avoid getting Negan’s spit in them.

“This is a hospital, not a prison,” he explained one more time. “If you wanted someone to watch her all night, you should have taken the appropriate measures.”

Negan snarled as his hand tightened around Lucille. “If anything happened to her -”

“It’s on you,” Doctor Carson interrupted. “You told me to give her whatever she needed, Negan, and what that girl needed was space. She needed peace and quiet, and she sure as hell couldn’t get that with you breathing down her goddamn neck every minute of the day.”

Negan might not have wanted to hear it, but he sure as shit needed to. Groaning loudly, he scraped a hand over his face. “Any idea when she might have left?”

“We didn’t feel the need to do bed checks last night,” Emmett snapped, his brow arched. “Now, if you’re done, I have other patients to see.”

Negan waited until the doctor had rounded the corner before he gave a shout of frustration. He had just come to terms with the fact that he was in love with Y/N, and now she was gone, nowhere to be seen, for who the fuck knew how long. He needed to grab Eugene and find her before something bad happened.

* * *

It had been a long time since you’d been able to see the stars. After the outbreak, the haze and smog from pollution began to thin, allowing you an unobstructed view of the night sky, and it took your breath away. You tried to come up with a word that came close to describing it, but you couldn’t. The only word you found that even came close was surreal.

You would climb onto the roof of wherever you were hiding out for that particular night, and watch as stars fell, as the aurora borealis painted the sky, as groups of meteors came close enough to see, but it wasn’t close enough. You wanted to dance among the stars, touch them, bask in their brilliant glow, but you were quickly reminded that was something you would never get to do.

Currently, you were on your back, using a rucksack as a pillow, legs bent at the knees, and a machete in your hand. You tried to forget the conversation you had overheard, but Negan’s voice kept ringing in your ears.

_”I love her.”_

It had to be a joke, there was no way he actually meant it. Negan knew how to covet and lust, but he didn’t know how to love; not since the outbreak, anyway. Although, you couldn’t help but wonder if Negan had always been the vile-tongued asshole you knew and loved…

Groaning, you rolled to your side and rearranged the sack under your head with a fist. That kind of thinking was exactly why you needed to get away from the sanctuary, from Negan, from… Eugene. Fuck, you felt like shit for not saying goodbye to your best friend, but if you knew Eugene half as well as you claimed you did, he would forgive you; in time. At least, that was what you hoped.

Since you had been in the safety of the sanctuary for the last couple of years, the rustling sound in the bushes made your heart hammer painfully. Your hand tightened on the handle of your machete as you sat up and you struggled to get your breathing under control. While the rustling continued, you quietly worked your way to the edge of the flat roof, searching for whatever was creating the noise.

It wasn’t a walker, that much you knew, you could mainly tell by the lack of unamused moaning. That, and the bush was only a few feet tall and wide. You didn’t have the patience to wait any longer, so you picked up a pebble and tossed it. The bush stopped moving altogether as whatever was there went still.

You decided to try another tactic. Reaching into your rucksack, you pulled out a wedge of jerky and tossed it several yards away from the house. It took a handful of seconds before something darted out, a streak of brown and white, and devoured the jerky.

_Well, I’ll be damned. It’s a dog._  You couldn’t tell from where you were perched, but the animal appeared to be on the smaller side, ribs jutting out, thinning fur; a dead dog walking.

_Not on my watch._

You gave a whistle, chuckling as the dog whipped around, searching for you. When it started shaking, you sheathed your blade and eased yourself down, making slow and deliberate movements so you didn’t present yourself as a threat.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” you rasped, your voice thin and weak from not having used it for decades.

Your hand was held palm up, a chunk of jerky in the center of it. You stood there, working to remain still as the animal crept closer. It took about five minutes before you felt the rough fur of its snout as it yanked the jerky from your hand. The dog darted away, hiding behind a tree as it ate the morsel, its head poking out as you pulled another chunk from the baggie in your pocket.

The third time the dog pulled the food from your hand, it didn’t hide behind the tree, but it didn’t stand close to you either; it kept its distance, eyeing you the entire time. It wasn’t until the fifth time, that the dog didn’t take the food and run away. It ate from the palm of your hand, its dry tongue working against your skin to get every bit of tangy meat it could.

The seventh time, you were sitting on the ground, cross-legged, holding the jerky between your fingers, and your other hand held out in the hopes that it would allow you to pet it. You were smiling warmly, watching as the food disappeared, as its tail bobbed from side to side, as it grew comfortable in your presence; that was when you scratched the top of its head.

You were prepared for barking and whining, maybe even for it to snap at you, but when its tongue flopped out of its mouth and its lips pulled back in a big doggy smile, you let go of the breath you were holding. It moved to roll onto its back, giving you a view of a sunken stomach.

“You a hungry girl, huh?” More rasping instead of actual talking, but you knew how dogs liked it when they were spoken to.

She wasn’t wearing a collar, which didn’t surprise you. “How about Sadie?”

Your new friend gave a garbled bark of approval, her tail wagging furiously. You picked her up, laughing as she licked your face and neck, and carried her up to where you had been sleeping. She searched the area, nose to the ground, tail wagging, until you dug out a jug of water. She ran over and sat down, whining as you filled a cup.

“I know, baby.” You watched as she drank every drop of water from the cup three times over before she gave a yawn.

“Come on, girl,” you prompted her, patting the spot next to you after you dropped to your side. She gave another yawn as she trudged over, dropped down, and almost immediately fell asleep. With your hand on Sadie’s back, you weren’t that far behind her.

* * *

Thanks - in part - to Negan’s longer legs, Eugene was trailing behind.

“Do you even know this is the direction she went?” he hollered, earning a glare from Negan.

“Do I look like a fucking mind reader?” Negan shot back.

“I’m just sayin’,” Eugene started as he jogged closer, “Y/N might have headed south.”

Negan stopped walking and turned on his heel. “You wanna fuckin’ go south,” he snarled, rage radiating off him in waves. “Then fuckin’ go south.”

“We’ll find her, boss,” Eugene murmured.

Negan’s mouth opened, only to snap closed half a second later. With a curt nod, he turned around and started storming away from Y/N’s best friend, headed in the direction he prayed you had headed. He had been trying to keep a level head about the situation, but the truth was, he was going to burn everything to the mother fucking ground if something happened to her. He hadn’t felt that way since… shit, Iris.

Yes, he had loved Lucille, had been **in** love with her, but Iris was a force to be reckoned with, and he knew that she was a woman that no one would ever compete with. But then Y/N showed up and pulled the rug out from under him.

Falling in love with Y/N was one thing, but to announce it to someone else? He hadn’t really come to terms with it, nor was he aware of exactly sure when it happened. All he knew was that he wanted… needed her. He just hoped she felt the same way.

“We better fuckin’ find her,” he muttered under his breath. Even he wasn’t sure of how he would handle things if they didn’t find Y/N, alive and well.


End file.
